


Got Something

by ExplosionOfRationality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExplosionOfRationality/pseuds/ExplosionOfRationality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is miserable when something cheers his day up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Something

Stiles may actually hate his life. Day after day of the same BS; if life got any worse, he would probably start banging his head against the nearest shoe rack--because that's what surrounds his very existence these days. Shoe racks. Lots and lots of shoe racks. What else would one expect from a shoe store? The only reason he puts up with it (it being the cycle of helping women find the perfect shoe for every day of the week) is because he needs the cash to fix up his jeep. Of course, Scott likes to tell him that not all of the money in the world could fix up his baby, but he plans to prove his best friend wrong by the end of the summer. Assuming he doesn't bash his brains out between now and then.

When he hears the ding above the door and looks up to see Jackson, the biggest tool in Beacon Hills, enter, he knows he'll never make it. He'd almost laugh at the sight; the school's most promising jock in a women's shoe store on a Saturday afternoon. He's hoping he's with his mother, a story he couldn't wait to tell Scott and Isaac, but a more genuine smile breaks out on his face when he sees the truth.

Lydia Martin is walking around his store. If he's lucky, she'll walk by him. If he's luckier, she'll ask him for help with something. (His fantasies go way past that, but the long day has made him slightly more realistic.)

Jackson is following behind her a few paces while she browses, a scowl on his face the whole time. Stiles doesn't understand the guy. He'd kill to be in his shoes. Instead, he sells them. He doesn't mind so much though, not when she inspects each major brand so carefully. Not when she tilts her head or says something to herself (or to her asshat boyfriend who's ignoring 90% of anything she says) or when she turns to HIM to ask HIM something? Not a complaint in the world (except Jackson being there).

"What year are these?"

She's making eye contact, which is impressive; it must be hard not to glance down at someone's gaping mouth while they're making "um" sounds. When his senses come back to him--not that be could be blamed: anyone with eyes and a right mind about them would be stunned by her beauty--he snaps his jaw shut and hopes that he wasn't drooling too much.

"Um," Damn it. Her first real impression of him, and she's going to think he's a retard. "Well, I'm not--I'm not exactly sure. I could check in the back for you?" He makes a gesture with his hand, something he isn't fully aware of doing.

She catalogues this away; he's very animate. She tilts her head while she scrutinizes him, watching him squirm. She considers it being because he's a nervous clerk, but the flush to his cheeks gives him away.

She's deciding on an answer, not so much interested in the shoes now as the situation. Jackson making impatient sounds behind her decides for her.

"No, that won't be necessary--" She can hear her boyfriend mutter a relief, and that makes it all the more satisfying. "What about these down here?" She points and then walks off, obviously expecting Stiles to follow her.

He sits there for exactly ten seconds, silently cheering inside his mind, before taking off after her. Maybe his start is too quick, too eager; maybe he wasn't as silent as he had thought. Maybe Jackson will shove his face into a locker the first day back to school. But she doesn't seem to notice his embarrassing behavior, and he can't bother to give a damn about the assface scowling behind them. Lydia Martin is his, if only for a fraction of a moment.

He fills her in on what he knows about the black pumps she's looking at, a pair that would look gorgeous on her. She seems impressed by his knowledge of them; a woman had come in that very week asking about them, and Stiles had retained everything her stupid questions required. (She didn't even buy them, and it looks like Lydia isn't going to either, though this time he can't seem to mind.)

They go on like this for about half an hour, one of the best of his life. Even all of the inventory he's going to have to do later can't damper his mood.

It's almost time to close the store when she finally leaves, empty handed, with a highly irritated Jackson. He's still walking behind her, and she knows that she would have to work to make this evening up to him if she wanted any decent time spent with him.

"You didn't even get anything."

She flips her hair over her shoulder and walks with confidence. It feels good to be appreciated for once.

"I got something."

Or, to be more precise, Stiles did. She left her number on the front desk.


End file.
